Seven Stages of Grieving
by So Yun
Summary: Something tragic has befallen Harry, how do the seven people connected to him deal? Character death warning. COMPLETED.
1. A Single Tear

**Title:** Seven Stages of Grieving

**Author: **So Yun

**Beta: Syracusethedog**

**Chapter: **1/7

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Languages, violence, adult themes, character death

**Summary: **Something tragic has befallen Harry, how do the seven people connected to him deal?

**Note1:** If you have "How to save a life" By the band, "The Fray" please put it on whilst you read this. Each chapter I will recommend a song to play that will put you in the mood.

**Note2: **Play "Dead Wrong" by the Fray in this chapter.

Seven Stages of Grieving

Chapter one: A Single Tear

-------------------------

"Cease your babbling at once Miss Granger!" Severus Snape, Potions Master and teacher of Hogwarts School snapped, bearing down at the bushy haired girl.

"But sir!"

"Weasley! Did I ask for your opinion?" Snape sneered disdainfully and looked down his extraordinarily long, hooked nose at the red haired boy.

The two kept blathering and protesting angrily, but he would have none of it. The Professor grabbed them both, silenced them and dragged them off to the Headmaster's office.

"Oompa Loompas." Snape said dryly, he hated the choice of passwords the old coot desired to use.

The phoenix moved and a revolving stair case was revealed, he continued to drag them up it. He ignored their gaping mouths and wild gestures, the Weasley boy often pertaining rude ones.

He ignored the grim and surprised look on Albus Dumbledore's face before depositing the two ignorant Gryffindors on two equally comfortable chairs.

He waved his wand and rubbed the bridge of his nose as their whining and screeches disturbing him greatly.

"Sir! He never got on the train! We waited for as long as we could and-"

"Headmaster something is wrong, I can feel it-"

The two agitated Gryffindors continued squawking, they reminded Snape of magpies. Dumbledore sat there calmly, listening to every word the two students said and nodded gravely.

As they continued, he calmly put his hand up to pause them and said solemnly, "I have sent Kingsley and Lupin to the Dursley's. It is a great grievance to hear this, Sirius is close to breaking the door down-"

"Oh no doubt, the mutt cannot control himself over his golden godson-"

"Severus, this is neither the time nor place,"

Snape sat silent, properly admonished and looked between the three other people in the room. Granger looked on the verge of tears.

For one swift moment, Snape felt sympathetic towards the girl. Even if he greatly disliked Potter, he also was disturbed by the boy's disappearance.

He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to the girl, saying stiffly, "There, there Miss Granger. I'm sure everything will be fine."

Weasley looked like he was going into shock and Albus was vaguely smiling, his eyes twinkling as goddamn usual.

"Ronald, I think you will find Severus human," He said, laughter in his tone as he looked at Weasley, his eyes goggling and jaw dropped.

Granger smiled and accepted the handkerchief, wiping her eyes then graciously handed it back to the Potions master.

"Thankyou Sir." she said shyly and looked away. For that moment the four sat silently and Weasley huffed every now and then.

"You are an impatient boy," Snape snapped, but with no snideness and only a touch of sarcasm.

The boy had the audacity to roll his eyes and huff again, at that moment he really didn't care what Snape thought.

Finally when the floo roared and two figures stepped out, everyone jumped to their feet.

-------------------------

Kingsley came out first, his eyes looked hollowed and he was unnaturally pale. Then Lupin, his eyes were red rimmed and he was rubbing a bloody fist.

Weasley and Granger looked up hopefully, fully expecting for a third person to step out and hug them. Running his hands through his wild hair, and grinning madly with a twinkle that absorbed his emerald eyes.

But a third person did not step out, and the four people standing slumped back down further in their chairs.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, prime auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix stepped forth slowly and placed a foggy bottle on the Headmaster's desk.

"I think you should watch this Albus," He said softly before falling softly into the chair behind him. Lupin did the same and unconsciously rubbed his hand, muttering things that no one could understand.

Albus looked at the bottle; the twinkle had left his eyes. He prepared himself for the unknown and poured the contents of the bottle into his pensieve.

He looked up to Snape and the two students, looking unfathomably disappointed and motioned for them to stand.

"I think you have the right to join me in seeing this." He said gently, he watched as Ron looked up at Snape in horror then nodded. Hermione wiped her tears and sniffled, also nodding.

Together they stood and watched as he floo called Sirius to join them.

When Sirius stepped out, his eyes were sunken and his hair waxy and greasy like Snape's.

He was slumped, but his posture still held a glimmer of hope. He had been frantic for hours ever since he had heard that his godson had not arrived at Hogwarts.

Being confined to headquarters while his best friend and Shackbolt went to investigate pained him deeply.

He felt helpless, not able to do anything when anything or something horrible had happened to befall Harry.

Together they stood and gulped, diving into the bowl, anxious of what horrors had befallen their friend, student and Godson.

-------------------------

Soon the five found they existed in a foggy memory, but it cleared instantly and most of them recognised the living room of number four Privet drive of Little Whinging Surrey.

They heard shouting and everyone became alarmed but listened intently.

"I'm sick of you! You're a freak and a laze-about, as bad as your good for nothing parents!"

"Don't you dare insult my parents Vernon!" Harry's angered voice penetrated them and they began to watch as the scene unfolded.

Harry was standing in the middle of the living room, his wand raised. His uncle stood in front of him, veins nearly popping in the side of his head. His fist was raised and he looked like he wanted to pummel Harry.

"I'll insult your stupid parents; I mean they are the ones who got themselves killed!"

"How dare you!" Harry screamed and lunged forth at his Uncle, throwing punches when he could.

"YOU FREAK! GET OFF ME! PETUNIA-"

The Muggle fought back and was pinning his nephew to the ground, putting his hands around Harry's neck, strangling him.

The five witnessed this in horror and wanted to rush forth and do something, anything to help. But their minds immobilized them, and they stood frozen in mortification as the scene went on.

"Uncle!" Harry was rasping and clawing at the hands, the witnesses all breathed in relief as Harry managed to break free.

But their relief was not long lived as they watched on, tears springing to Dumbledore and Hermione's eyes.

Harry was fighting back bravely, but his wand lay forgotten on the ground.

"You stupid freak! I'm going to kill you! I should have drowned you when you were dropped on our doorstep! Marge was right, when the bitch-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Harry was then picked up bodily by his uncle and thrown; there was an almighty crash as he hit the glass coffee table. Shards embedding themselves everywhere, then there was silence as the last tinkling of glass landed.

The five people watched in grief as they saw the still form that lay at horrible angles over the once coffee table.

Harry's beautiful green eyes were lifeless and his lips were contoured into a slight smile. His neck and head were at a strange angle, as were his arm and one of his legs.

A sticky, blackish crimson pool of blood dripped, oozing over the surface from somewhere underneath Harry.

Time stretched and Harry's body was still, so still, too still. His chest did not rise and fall, his lips were parted a little and no breath ghosted them.

His messy raven hair covered his forehead and his glasses hung limply from one ear and his nose. His body was splayed grotesquely over the table, it looked sickening.

His eyes that made his gorgeous, beautiful smile were so lifeless. There was no apparent twinkle in them anymore.

His fragile seeker hands used for grasping the snitch were frozen in a delicate arch like a ballerina's pose.

His body held no life anymore; it held a strange beauty in it.

He was dead.

-------------------------

Numbness encased Severus Snape; his eyes became glazed as he stared at the body. The body of a child, the body of the fifteen year old child he had come to forcing himself to detest.

Bile was rising in his throat as the sticky pool of blood stopped flowing; it was as dark as midnight.

He found it hard to breath, but he could not stare away from the expressionless eyes of the teen. The brutal ness of the murder he saw bit him hard, it stung.

He swallowed the bile and blinked furiously, but his eyes entranced at the odd angles in which Potter lay.

He couldn't stare long as the scene lurched on, what came next nearly made Severus Snape want to kill the muggle himself.

The muggle stared at the body for a second, horror, and then relief? Dawning on his fat features.

He ushered his wife back into the kitchen, Petunia looked awful. She kept looking out the doorway into the living room at the body.

She sat down, shaking and gasping for breath, "Vernon-" She began but was cut off as her husband hastily pulled out a big garbage bag noisily and retreated back to the living room.

Snape looked at his companions beside him, Granger was sobbing uncontrollably into Weasley's arms, who seemed in a trance as he comforted his girlfriend.

The headmaster had guilt ridden in his eyes and aged features, he had buried his face in his hands. But enough to see what was still happening.

Black looked the worst, he had unfallen tears pooling in his eyes. Despair and anxiety marred his features, grief was tipping on the edge for him. His eyes stared through the wall where he knew his godson lay in a pool of his own black, crimson blood.

They followed through watching in awe struck horror as Vernon Dursley carelessly handled the body of the boy who lived. Stuffing the teenager's marred, bloody, but unbroken body into the garbage bag.

He laid the body in the bag on the ground and tied a knot tightly at the top and surveyed it for a moment before snapping for his wife to clean up the blood.

When his wife did not answer or move, Vernon hastily grabbed a sponge from the laundry and messily wiped the pool of blood. It stained the carpet in a grotesque way, but cleaned off the remains of the table easily.

Vernon then picked up the body very carelessly and carried it into the garage where he shoved it into the trunk of his car.

He sighed then wiped the sweat of his brow before heaving into the car himself and driving out onto the street. The body in the boot unceremoniously thumping side to side as the car drove.

Severus Snape closed his eyes for a second when they reached a large gutter pipe below a bridge on the outskirts of town. Water flowed little through the pipe and into the cemented stream down into a creek further down.

Vernon parked on the bridge and opened the boot, pulling out the garbage bag and throwing it over the bridge.

He panted as if it were a hard working job to be done with. His face was red with exhaustion and he never took a second glance as the body fell over the bridge railing.

It landed in the little stream with a small splash and Vernon Dursley drove off, never looking back.

Pale and shaking, the five landed back in the Headmaster's office, all stumbling in shock.

An unbidden, single tear escaped Severus Snape's eye and rolled down his cheek landing on the carpet. Snape never cried, never. Until now.

Emotions swelled up in his chest and he dared not look up. They had just seen hell and come back.

The material absorbed it as silence encumbered the five witnesses of Harry Potter's, cold hearted murder.

-------------------------

Please take the time and review, no flames.

**Next chapter:**

Chapter two: A Pair of Calming Draughts


	2. A Pair of Calming Draughts

**Title:** Seven Stages of Grieving

**Author: **So Yun

**Beta: Syracusethedog**

**Chapter: **2/7

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Languages, violence, adult themes, character death

**Summary: **Something tragic has befallen Harry, how do the seven people connected to him deal?

**Note1: **Change of style, some POV's and some narrated POV's.

**Note2: **Play "All at once" By the Fray for this chapter.

Seven Stages of Grieving

A pair of Calming Draughts

-------------------------

Then it started, Granger started hyperventilating and collapsed on the ground.

Funnily enough Weasley did not stoop down to pick her up, he just stood there. Entranced in his own little world, his eyes were glazed. No doubt he internally was hyperventilating.

Black had fallen on his arse as soon as we had landed, he still hadn't gotten up.

Albus blinked, once or twice and stared at Granger. I realized I was just as bad as them both and I wiped my cheek and stepped forth, picking her up under her arms.

Her breathing was ragged, she had gone into shock.

I sent a glare, although not the strongest one I could conjure at the remaining people then carried her off to the hospital wing.

No one followed me of course, only Poppy helped me shove a Strong Calming draught down Granger's throat. Then we sent her into an induced sleep, she could deal with her grief when she woke up.

I decided not to go back to the living Wax museum where everyone was consumed in their grief. I decided to go to my room and sleep it off.

Maybe I'd forget the thing I'd just seen. It reminded me of a horror movie, the pool of blood, so black, yet crimson at the same time. Bile rose in my throat again, and once again I swallowed it with distaste.

But as I laid my head on the pillow, the revelation of the scene slammed into me. I closed my eyes for a full moment; his lifeless green eyes were haunting me.

Maybe till I felt remorse at hating him for nothing.

-------------------------

When I woke up from the voices around me I knew; I knew that today the body was going to be recovered.

I closed my eyes for a second and breathed deeply, I did not realize I had gotten so hysterical that Professor Snape had to administer me a calming draught.

I looked around the room and sat up; Ron lay in the bed next to me. He must have woken up just minutes before.

His eyes were uncertain and glazed, maybe he would remember he wasn't the only one who lost their best friend.

I swallow dryly; it's difficult to imagine this world without Harry. A dam wall broke inside of my heart when I saw his broken body; I think my mind shut down for a few hours.

As I remember the _murderer's _hideous face I shudder and a gulping wave of emotion crashed on top of me. Something snapped inside of me.

"NO! NO! Why Harry?! Why HIM?! You BASTARD Dursley! You bastard!" I scream, I don't give a damn that my vocal cords are just about ripping.

I pound my fists on the sheets like a toddler being denied of food. Harry is my food I am being denied of, I need my food to live.

-------------------------

I watch in a haze as Mione flails around, I do and don't know what is wrong. It is like a terrible loss, a piece of me is missing. Will I ever laugh again?

I feel immobilized, I cannot move. I cannot express feelings; I do not know how to grieve.

I have watched muggle movies when Gin has egged me to with her. They cry, they weep. Some scream like Hermione, wearing their hearts on the sleeves.

But will people think of me ill? Or weak if I shed a single tear? If I bawl my fists and shouted my anger to the world?

That-that thing, he killed my best mate. Yet I don't feel the tingle of revenge that Harry often described. I almost feel nothing, I am almost numb.

To Harry, I beg. Please don't make me unreachable! Why did you have to die?!

"WHY THE FUCK WHY?!"

No one can hear me, I say this internally. I am silent, I am still.

I will not say goodbye to you Harry. I will not say goodbye.

I clench my sheets and get up while Madam Pomfrey pours stronger dosage of calming draught down Hermione's throat. She goes limp. Everyone sighs in relief.

No one notices me slip out the doors and run, blood pounding in my ears. Maybe I will forget, maybe I will not.

-------------------------

Your breath will no long ghost me ear when you laugh. I cannot nag you to finish your homework, although to you quidditch was the priority.

Was. I loathe using that word now Harry. Every sentence I form, you are now past tense.

I cannot bring myself to cry anymore, or chuck a tantrum. My mum is holding my hand and my dad is caressing my cheek.

Who will caress your cheek in your nightmares now Harry? The angel of heaven?

I was your angel in this world Harry, if you can speak to me. Tell you are fine.

Tell me you are not really stuffed in an ugly rubbish bag, lying in a dirty little creek in the middle of no where.

Tell me.

I wish I could bring myself to go with Lupin, Kingsley, Dumbledore, Mr Weasley and Sirius to find you.

Carry you back to the light, so you are no longer lost. Wandering round the depths of earth, to me you are not dead.

When I sleep I see your gorgeous grin Harry, your sparkling eyes. You were mine Harry, mine.

I will not let go.

-------------------------

My dad whispers to me that they are recovering the body today. He found me leaning against the quidditch pitch hoops.

He picked me up like a little baby I used to be and carries me back to the Hospital wing with his strong arms.

His smile is grim; he nods as I try to speak. But I cannot find my voice; I do not know how to grieve.

"You may come Ron, I think its best," He answers softly and carefully takes my clothes off, my own hands are immobile.

Soon he dresses me in fresh clothes and holds my hand as we walk out.

I take a glance at Hermione, she is peacefully asleep. She does not need to see this, but I do.

The party is arranged, a last minute arrival joins us slowly.

His face is impassive, his hooked nose pointed to the ground. His obsidian eyes can not search the other's faces; he needed to see the body.

He needed to know he was dead. He needed closure; he needed to know Potter forgave him. He needed-.

As they all touched the portkey to the place, no one stumbled. They were all upright and expressionless.

Sirius looked unshaven, his hair was a mess. Although his eyes were not red rimmed like Remus's, they were solid and strong.

A defiant, angry sparkle glimmering deep within them.

They were standing on the bridge, no one dared to look over the railing. They were afraid, ever so afraid of what might and was down there.

Dumbledore stared at the sky, and then was the first to move. They walked across the bridge and started down the rocky, steep hill.

Still no one dared look down. They knew in the back of their minds, it was there.

Once they reached the bottom, Remus burst into tears and fell to the ground. He broke down then and there, his pants getting wet from the dirty creek water.

Kingsley stumbled and leaned on Remus's shoulder for support. He didn't cry, but inside his heart thumped in empathy and sadness.

Mr Weasley stared and blinked the pulled his son close. Very soft sobs emitting from him, Ron buried his face in his father's chest.

He was not physically crying. He was crying on the inside, he did not know how to grieve.

Dumbledore's breathing was harsh; he cradled his heart and small tears mingled with the hairs in his beard.

Sirius kicked a stray stone angrily then became blank again. Before anyone could stop him, he ran to the bag, turned it over and ripped it open.

Everyone gasped as Harry dull emerald depths stared at them. His glasses were shattered beside his head; he looked strange without his glasses.

He looked even more beautiful.

His body had not decayed, it was still intact but the bag was covered in dried blood.

His skin was an unnatural colour, a porcelain white with blue tinges in his lips and fingertips.

His mouth was still slightly agape, just like the memory. It was contoured into a smile.

He had been happy before he died; he had known he was going to leave.

Sirius closed his eyes for a second before pulling the rubbish bag away and cradling his Godson's cold body. Too cold, too still.

Remus's loud wailing echoed the little crevasse underneath the bridge. Sirius was only silent in his grief.

Everyone who knew him well enough knew he was bottling it up.

Together Kingsley and Albus gently pried a portkey into Sirius's arms and everyone soon followed after.

Everyone was crying except Ron. He did not know how to grieve.

-------------------------

That night Ron and Hermione were still accommodated in the hospital wing. Anything Gryffindor reminded them of Harry, it was unbearable.

Ron was hunched up on his bed, hugging his knees. His eyes glazed once again.

Hermione watched him, fury etched in her features. She could not stand it any longer, Ron didn't do anything. He didn't even show that Harry's death affected him.

She got out of her bed, marched over to him and screeched.

"CRY GODAMN YOU RON!" she towered over him, roughly tugging his arms away from his knees.

"HE WAS YOUR BEST FRIEND! YOU DON'T-YOU DON'T EVEN GIVE A DAMN!"

"WHY THE HELL DON'T YOU CARE? THEY KILLED HIM AND YOU DON'T GIVE A DAMN!" She began to grab him so tightly, her voice trailing into hysterical sobbing.

"Don't you care? He's dead Ron, he isn't coming back." She whispered into his ear, her warm breath ghosting his red ears.

She sobbed for minutes, or hours, she did not know or care. The tense body she held was cold; she rubbed it and said choking on a strangled laugh.

"You really should be under your blankets Ron, you'll catch a cold,"

She quickly crawled over to her bed and grabbed her large, fluffy lavender bed robe and wrapped it around the both of them.

She leaned close to Ron and whispered again, "I miss him."

Ron felt a tear dribble from his eyes; soon another joined it and another. He clutched Hermione closely to him. His hands had finally unfrozen.

He felt warmth tingle into his body and his most recent breath turned into a choked sob. His breathing was restricted and he felt a foreign feeling flood his soul and mind.

Snaps of Harry's face flashed in his eyes and he whispered, utterly broken but defiant,

"I do too. I do, I do I do I do….."

Ron Weasley knew how to grieve.

-------------------------

Please take the time and review, no flames.

**Next Chapter:**

Chapter three: Triple losses


	3. Triples Losses

**Title:** Seven Stages of Grieving

**Author: **So Yun

**Beta: Syracusethedog**

**Chapter: **3/7

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Languages, violence, adult themes, character death

**Summary: **Something tragic has befallen Harry, how do the seven people connected to him deal?

**Note1: **Change of style, some POV's and some narrated POV's

**Note2: **Don't be disappointed but this fic isn't a 'Harry comes back to life' I intend to stay original!

**Note3: **Play "Heaven Forbid" By the Fray for this chapter.

Seven Stages of Grieving

Triple Losses

-------------------------

Once Sirius landed with our Harry, so lost in his grief we helped him to move Harry onto my bed. His eyes remained unblinking, so lost, gone.

Fawkes mourned loudly, singing in a high shrill of despair and grief. Sirius was so consumed in Harry as he gently laid the boy down.

Through the whole thing he cradled our Harry ever so gently, my own tears mingled with the white hairs of my beard.

I had known fifteen years ago it had been a mistake on my behalf to leave him with them. I know now that Lily looks down at me in anger, this is my fault.

Petunia although, I know in my heart had nothing to do with this horrendous misjudgement. Vernon Dursley on the other hand, I fear he has gone too far and stumbled blindly into a deed of rage.

I never thought it would come to this, in a moment of tedious anger I have lost a student, a friend and a grandson. It is a blow to my frail heart; I shall carry on for him.

Love bided us, it was our power. If our Harry did not know it, I planned to tell him one day. He was like a grandson to me, one I never had.

I hid that I wanted to spoil him, wanted him in my wrinkled arms. He was our Harry, but now for my own mistakes, he has faced the consequences.

I have lost you our Harry, I want to apologise. You were more to me then a grandson; you were one of my students. Harry I love my students like each one is my child, I have lost a child now.

You were also my friend; I offered you lemon drops, engaged in conversation. You were a true friend to me Harry.

Harry, my boy, I say this for the last time. I look upon your adolescent body and I feel my old bones creaking. They won't give way just yet, they will stay strong.

You waged a war with your own family when you should not have; I only wish that I could have shown you much more love. You were like a grandson to me.

It is hard to watch your godfather Sirius, to be so openly broken. If he had his way the Dursleys would be burnt to ash. I want to break through to him; he will not let you go.

Tis unhealthy to grief forever, I think that Sirius shall never let go. Please Harry my boy, help him.

-------------------------

Sirius sat on the Headmaster's huge bed beside his office and lay on the bed. He held Harry's body close to him and refused to let go, he numbly shook his head when they asked him to let go of his Godson.

So Kingsley and Dumbledore sat around him and looked at Harry. Grief stricken marring their features, they could not look away from the beautiful boy or Sirius.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and remembered hearing Harry's child like voice asking him so many things. Or the timid scrawny little eleven year old he had learnt to love.

Just like Lily and James, he had also lost them, like losing two children.

When Albus Dumbledore had seen that ghastly memory his heart shut down momentarily, then a surge of love towards Harry came out.

He knew that if in his younger years this terrible event had happened, he would have wailed like Remus. But he was wailing on the inside.

His outer composure was serious and grave, sadness and sorrow twinkling deeply within his eyes. He couldn't save Harry like always, he had been too late.

No one had bothered to shut Harry's eye lids, his emerald depths just stared at everyone shallowly.

Sirius clutched the teen like a teddy bear for when he was afraid of the dark. Sirius was afraid of Harry's death, he didn't believe it. And he couldn't cure it.

Sooner or later Sirius would have to be removed, the daunting funeral arrangements had to be made. Sooner or later Harry would be turned into Golden Dust, the wizard's cremation, one of the many ways to say goodbye to their loved ones.

The body was transfigured into little golden flecks; everyone would blow them into the wind of the deceased's favourite spot.

It was a beautiful way to say goodbye.

But everyone knew that Sirius would not let the boy go. It also wrenched Dumbledore's heart to see his grandson, student and friend be blown into the wind.

At least Harry would be at peace.

-------------------------

Sirius finally fell asleep, his breath's ghosted Harry's hair, causing it to sway slightly. Sirius's arm was wrapped securely around the teen's side and his other hand clutched Harry's own.

Dumbledore nodded to Kingsley and they both rolled the man over, shifting him away from Harry.

Kingsley succumbed to a small choked sob as the sight of Harry's body, so alone, caught up with him. He sat on the bed for a moment to compose himself; he knew that the old Headmaster would not mind him losing face for a moment.

When his grief had been ridden out for the moment he picked up Harry's body gently and carried it to the hospital wing. It would double as a single morgue for the time being.

Sirius had to let go, whether or not he agreed.

Dumbledore's tears spilt over and he made no move to wipe them away. His breath came out as hacked coughs, he couldn't look away.

Why you Harry? Why you my boy?

-------------------------

Once Sirius had woken up, he did not bite into a terrible rage as they expected him to. He noticed the absence of his Godson and slumped, entirely defeated.

He didn't bother asking where they had moved his Godson, he stayed silent.

All the men in the room hated the fact that yes; their Harry was meanwhile lying, most probably cold under stiff sheets. His eyes still unclosed, wandering between heaven and earth.

But they all knew he wasn't coming back, they knew sooner or later they would drown in grief.

They knew their tears would not stop; Harry would not poke out his tongue at them. Smile, giggle like a toddler when someone tickled him on his knees.

Sirius had actually discovered that weirdly enough, Harry was ticklishly sensitive on his knees. Many people raucously laughed at that, but some people have oddities about them.

They would miss Harry's whoop of joy when he rode his Firebolt. Or his groaning when homework was placed in front of him.

The way he combed his fingers through his thick raven hair, usually grinning sheepishly. It had always been a sign he was nervous.

The people around Harry had learned to love Harry's little oddities, even if they were strange. Some people found them cute, making poor Harry blush like a Weasley.

But no longer would they be able to make fun of him, or tickle his knees. No one knew how they were going to say goodbye to him. No one.

Saying goodbye is the hardest part.

-------------------------

Maybe I should not have left that baby on that doorstep. I remember so vividly like it were yesterday, his shining, bright emerald eyes staring at me.

In fascination, awe or fright I do not know. But every time I picture that scene, I grin like Christmas come.

I remember how he reached his tiny fingers out to me, I held onto it. Maybe I should have kept hold of him, and then I would not have lost him.

I have failed you Harry, do you not know how many people care and love you? Death is a swift thing. Why life has to take a many great people away from us so quickly I do not know.

I hope, my boy I see you on the other side. I miss you Harry.

I learnt to love you so, I did not tarry that you looked exactly like James, or the fact you had Lily's eyes. You were your own.

You were such a remarkable boy, Harry. A many great things you have achieved and at only fifteen. I hope you are incandescently happy where you are.

If you are grieving for us, or the fact that we were separated so early. Like a baby from its mother.

We grieve for you; if you cannot see us then death has blinded you. I hope death has not blinded you Harry, my dear dear boy. I hope you can still see us, because we can still see you.

-------------------------

Late that night Dumbledore carried Fawkes on his arm and walked slowly up to the Hospital wing. The old man could only live to hope as he opened the door.

The last bed by the window, moon shining on the line pressed plastic sheets. A still firm lay under that sheet, staring up into nothingness.

Dumbledore breathed deeply and petted Fawkes gently as he slowly lifted the sheet away.

Harry stared at him, smiling and lifeless at the same time. Dumbledore was a wise man, but this time hope had overcome him.

If his idea were completely useless he did not care, he needed to know. He had to.

Into the slightly parted mouth of the teen Fawkes's tears of sorrow dripped. Down the dark chasm of Harry's mouth they went, but he was still. He was gone.

Dumbledore closed his eyes and fell to his knees, he did not care that his bones ached on impact. Or that Fawkes swayed violently and fluttered to keep balance.

He grabbed Harry's cold, cold hand and clutched it as tightly as his old muscles would allow him.

He cried harder then he had ever done in his long, long life. He cried, nearly bawling like he did when he was five. He had fallen out of a tree and Aberforth could not catch him.

"I shall catch you when you fall Harry,"

"I shall catch you….." He repeated and repeated. He did not notice Fawkes crying openly, not to heal anyone. But in his own sorrow, he cried for his owner and for Harry.

Sorrow overcame the two; they had lost many things at once when Vernon Dursley had thrown his nephew through a glass table.

An aged Albus Dumbledore clutched a silent teen's hand and cried his hundred year old heart out. He had had his grandson, a student and a friend ripped away from him so unreadily.

It was most probably mutual.

"Fawkes, it is human to grieve, but it is inhuman to take him." Dumbledore croaked and looked lovingly at the phoenix.

The phoenix stared back, sadness reflected in the bird's eyes. He nodded and crowed sadly, but a sprig of happiness for Harry was merged into it.

-------------------------

Dumbledore gulped and laughed lightly at his wet beard, Fawkes joined him.

"In two days, we shall all have to realize. It is time to say goodbye" He whispered to himself and the phoenix. He smiled for a last moment and stood up; he glanced at Harry still smiling.

"You've already said your goodbyes haven't you Harry?" He inquired softly, knowing he would not get an answer back.

"It is our turn now, it is our turn."

His eyes regained twinkle and he kissed Harry's forehead and left the infirmary. Fawkes swaying on his shoulder, he lifted his wing in a wave and sang a final note.

-------------------------

Please take the time and review, no flames.

**Next Chapter:**

A deny four times


	4. A Deny four times

**Title:** Seven Stages of Grieving

**Author: **So Yun

**Beta: Syracusethedog**

**Chapter: **4/7

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Languages, violence, adult themes, character death

**Summary: **Something tragic has befallen Harry, how do the seven people connected to him deal?

**Note1: **Change of style, some POV's and some narrated POV's

**Note2: **Don't be disappointed but this fic isn't a 'Harry comes back to life' I intend to stay original!

**Note3: **Play "Trust me" By the Fray for this chapter.

Seven stages of Grieving

A deny four times

-------------------------

"It's time Sirius-"

"I'm coming."

Sirius stood up and dragged his feet as he followed Kingsley through the labyrinth of Hogwarts. The finally came to the door of the Hospital wing/ morgue and Sirius rested his hand on the cold doorframe before entering. He passed Ron and Hermione, each lying on their separate beds, he sent them a grim smile.

The room adjacent wing had been charmed to stay chilled for the meantime. As he stepped in his breath got caught in his throat as he saw the still figure lying on the bed at the end of the room.

He paused and closed his eyes for a moment before striding towards it timidly. Kingsley followed him closely, ready to support his friend. He was also carrying a packet of special wizards robes which the minister had given Dumbledore to dress Harry in.

Sirius sat on the stool beside Harry and rubbed his hands deftly over his face. Not emitting a sound just controlled silent breaths.

He watched as Kingsley pulled the sheet back, for a moment a small tear came to Sirius's eye but he wiped it away quickly. Harry's eyes stared right into his Godfather's soul, Sirius kept back a choked sob.

Kingsley shut his eyes for a moment before pulling the sheet back fully and opening the packet of robes. Sirius eyed him closely and all of a sudden grabbed the packet out of Kingsley's hands and incinerated them with his wand.

"My godson will not be wearing handed out Ministry robes!" He snarled and looked at the pile of ash resting at his feet.

Kingsley nodded before continuing to pull Harry's dirtied muggle clothes off. Sirius watched him then said,

"He would have wanted to wear his quidditch robes." He nearly whispered before summoning Harry's trunk.

The trunk appeared and Sirius looked forlornly at it before opening it hastily and rummaging through.

-------------------------

The day was ending and Remus Lupin looked out the window, he was interrupted when Snape came through the door carrying a steaming Goblet.

"No." Lupin hoarsely managed and continued to stare out the window. He realized Snape stood behind him patiently, the steam off the goblet wafting off it.

"I don't want it, not tonight."

"Lupin,"

"No Severus, you should understand why."

"You could be a danger and if you so insufferably do so then-"

"DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THE MEANING OF NO?!" Lupin said turning, full on bellowing at the potions professor.

"I WANT TO BE LEFT THE FUCK ALONE!"

He pushed past the tall man and started for the basement when a long fingered hand stopped him.

"I understand Lupin, excuse me for my rudeness, I-"

"Thankyou Severus" Lupin replied sincerely and smiled weakly, his eyes watered.

"I know this is your way of grieving-we all have ways and this is yours" Snape said calmly looking past Lupin somewhere.

Remus stopped at this and turned, looking at the black haired man, "Then what is your's?" He asked casually but trained his eyes to align right with Snape's obsidian ones.

"I don't know." The man answered calmly before tipping the potion down the sink and banishing the goblet.

He went to leave Grimmauld place when Lupin's voice stopped him, "I know you are grieving him Severus, even if he was the son of your enemy."

Snape acknowledged this and continued in his stride, turning to look at Lupin for the last time, a faint trace of a smile played on his lips.

"I am." He whispered just loud enough for the other man to hear. He left through the front door then apparated to his Hogwarts gates.

-------------------------

For the first time in my life, when I land from apparation I stumble. My billowing black robes fly everywhere and I wrap hold of the gate wires to steady myself

I hold onto it with a vice grip, even if I am balanced just fine now. I know my face is flushed and I'd give a fair bet my hair is fly away. I understand why Lupin refuses his wolfsbane; I know what he wants to do.

Once I am sure I am fine I continue to walk up the path and through the giant oak doors. As I enter my quarters I slam the door hard.

We all have to vent our grief and anger at the Dursley's somehow. I finally sit down and bury my face in my hands; Harry's face has finally disappeared. I no longer see his green orbs haunting me.

I feel better in a sense, I hated Harry fucking Potter, well technically James fucking Potter's son. Unfair I know.

I hate myself, Severus Snape right now. Or maybe the Dursley's, they did this. They devastated everyone, including me by killing one Harry Potter.

No one devastates me, it's impossible till now. But somehow my seething anger is no longer directed at the boy, it is directed at those goddamn muggles.

They have reduced me to a quivering mass of unstable jelly. I can't hold myself upright and I know what has caused it.

Death is a funny thing; I never knew someone's death could affect so many people differently. Even me as an afterthought.

I stand and run my fingers through my greasy hair; maybe I should wash it for Harry Potter's sake. He always said I should.

James Potter would roll around in his grave. No more Snivellus.

I feel an abating anger rising the more I think about Harry. He was just an innocent child who I myself was sure would be killed in the war. But no he was killed by effing muggles, no magic whatsoever.

So it seems no one is invincible even if magical.

I finally know my way to grieve; I must break everything in the vicinity. So I stupidly open my potions cabinet and rip out all the glass vials.

I smile maniacally and throw them all, watching in pleasure as sparks explode when they mix with the flames of my fireplace. I am laughing, so unjust but I am laughing.

I break everything I can get my hands on, I laugh for Harry Potter, I smile for Harry Potter, I scream for myself.

I am no longer laughing; I stop and look at the destruction I've made. I slump and turn to look at my reflection in the mirror. Life's not meant to be fair Harry Potter, but I would have swapped places eagerly for you child.

-------------------------

I see the full moon rise through the window of the basement. I grimace and feel the pain in my limps making me scream. But I scream openly and I scream for you Harry.

All the anger I feel in my bones are breaking out as they stretch. I feel my insides rearranged and the fur vastly covering my skin. I scratch at my self, I am so numb in sadness I don't feel the pain.

I lick up my blood and howl, loud and clear. If I were human this would be equivalent to me screaming.

I howl for minutes or hours I don't know. I feel a maniac sense to kill and I visualize the Dursley's. I shred my skin into strips and throw myself against the basement walls.

I can smell pain and sadness emitting from everywhere, it stinks the room out. I find it unbearable and I howl so loud I feel as though my vocal chords have ripped.

I hug myself, ignoring the fact that my claws dig into my flesh. That smell is itching me and I want it to go away.

I realize that the smell is coming from me.

For hours I throw myself around, I don't care because I need this. I know that once I have killed my anger I will be able to fully grieve for you Harry.

Please don't worry; I'll be fine, you'll see.

When I watch the stars as I howl, two sparkle at me brightly. I can see you smiling at me from heaven Harry, thankyou.

I bare my teeth and growl mournfully, I can't believe I let you slip from my gasp. If I would have had a son Harry, it would have been you.

My anger has been flowing through me ever since I smashed my fist into Vernon Dursley's nose two times. I felt disgusted I'd even raised my fist, you don't like fighting.

I'm glad Kingsley stopped me, but nothing has ever stopped me loving you Harry. Not even death can separate us, I can see you. I know you see me.

I am willing to be in pain for you Harry, because I bet you were in pain before you died.

But I know you died happy, you had a smile on your face. A smile Harry, it tells me you are alright.

I didn't want you ripped out of my hands so early; I want to tell you a secret.

I was so jealous of Sirius, it pained me everyday. I wanted you, I wanted to be Sirius. I wanted to have that bond you shared with him. I wanted you.

But now when I look back I am no longer jealous. You were ours.

As dawn breaks, I throw myself at a wall for the last time. My bones ache, they ache for you.

-------------------------

Remus lay slumped against the wall until he heard someone proceeding down the stairs. Snape came into the room, he looked unusually defeated. The usual sour expression was replaced by a blank look, although a sadness flashed in his eyes that no one could decipher.

He knelt down besides Lupin and pulled out a vial of pain relieving potion and a heap of bandages.

"I found my way to grieve Lupin," He said quietly whilst attending to Lupin's various wounds. Snape frowned and continued,

"You've hurt yourself pretty bad, but I'll make sure you can make it to the funeral." He said sincerely, Lupin stayed silent.

"He was ours." Remus Lupin barely whispered before falling asleep from his exhaustion, his head lolling on his shoulder.

"Yes, he was ours." Snape answered back, even though he knew the man could not hear him.

"He was ours."

-------------------------

Please take the time and review, no flames.

**Next Chapter:**

Five years


	5. Five Years

**Title:** Seven Stages of Grieving

**Author: **So Yun

**Beta: Syracusethedog**

**Chapter: **5/7

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Languages, violence, adult themes, character death

**Summary: **Something tragic has befallen Harry, how do the seven people connected to him deal?

**Note1: **Change of style, some POV's and some narrated POV's

**Note2: **Don't be disappointed but this fic isn't a 'Harry comes back to life' I intend to stay original!

**Note3: **Horcruxes have nothing to do with this, this is completely AU.

**Note4: **Play "Vienna" By the fray for this chapter.

Seven Stages of Grieving

Five Years

-------------------------

"-He's dead Fred, George. Ron is dealing with it……."

I sucked in a breath, I heard Fred's hitch, dad continued,

"His Uncle threw him onto a glass table…." Mr Weasley's grave news did not rattle us twins end to end, it shook us, right through the nerves, and right to the bone.

We bowed our heads respectfully and our usual red Weasley flush did not creep up onto our cheeks. We retained a pale pallor and I breathed loudly.

"The funeral is tomorrow-"

I closed my eyes, tightly, squeezing my eyelids till they hurt my eyeballs. I felt for Fred's hand and squeezed it tightly too, his hand gripped mine back like a vice. As brothers we stood and let the news sink in, soon enough the grief would hit us.

Ramming us like a ten tonne truck, I didn't look up to George. I didn't need to. I knew him like the back of my hand, and he knew me. Harry had been shattered and now he is gone.

Everyone poignantly saw him as RON Weasley's best friend. But he was more then that to our Red head clan. He was family, in everything but blood. Blood, red hair, freckles and the Weasley flush.

We had known him for five years, and now we would never see him for another fifty years. Or eternally, never. He is gone.

"Boys-everything is going to be alright-"

The last of his words did not faze us, we paid no heed. But his first sentence did.

We nodded dimly then turned simultaneously and walked away, our father sighed behind us.

Once they were outside the burrow George rested beside the giant oak and Fred remained standing. His face was impassive until he picked up a large stick and snapped it over his knee.

He caused a ruckus around the tree, angrily stomping around. Droplets of anger rolled down his cheeks and fell to the ground off his chin. His red hair seemed ablaze and his eyes shooting rage.

George calmly watched him, his own silent tears falling freely from his saddened eyes. He got up slowly then caught his brother round the chest and held him tightly. Fred quietened down and stilled, his sobs echoing the burrows backyard.

"He was like a brother-"

"I know." George said gently and comforted his identical brother.

"Ron will-"

"I know Fred, I know."

"How can life be so-"

"Unfair? Fred that I don't know."

"Why does the-"

"Inevitable have to come to us? I don't know that either."

"George-"

"Yes?"

"Do you even care?" He whispered. George looked at him incredulously then his face blanked.

"Of course I do, why would you think-"

"Because you didn't throw a fit-"

"We may be twins but we aren't totally alike,"

Silence paused time, Fred nodded.

"I know, sorry for accusing you-"

"Its okay, you know I care. He was a Weasley-"

"Minus the red hair,"

"Yea."

George?"

Yea Fred?"

"How do we do this-how do we get through it? H-how do we deal-how-"

"That, I do know."

"What do you mean George, please don't play mind tricks-"

"I mean that the best way that we can let H-Harry go, is………play a prank. Just like the Marauders"

Fred nodded a small trace of a smile forming on his lips. He brushed the tears away and looked up to the sky, up into the heavens.

"Me thinks so too..."

"In honour of Harry!" They chorused together and walked back to the house. They both had tears of sadness and a mischievous glint in their eyes.

-------------------------

"Remus, I attempted to rid the bitter taste-"

"Severus, it's alright. Thankyou….I just want to make sure I can be there..."

"That's quite alright Remus."

Remus gulped down the bitter potion as he pegged his nose with his fingers. Once the goblet was empty he tempted a shaky smile and nodded at Snape.

Snape acknowledged the man and vanished the goblet. The men stood there for a moment before Remus broke the silence.

"You are going to the funeral aren't you Severus?"

Snape lifted his head gently and took a moment to think then nodded.

"Yes." He replied softly then said, "The headmaster wished me to be there,"

Remus also nodded then questioned timidly, "Would you have gone even if Dumbledore had not asked you?"

There was silence and Snape never answered. Remus hadn't expected him to.

-------------------------

XxX Sirius looked gently over his Godson's naked body. Harry lay stiff on the hospital morgue bed. His limbs were unmovable and his head looked stiff as stone. The rigor mortis had petrified him.

Sirius never imagined he would have to apply magic to his Godson, but, he did need to dress the body, so with a flick of his wand, Harry's body went limp.

For a fleeting moment, as the stiffness went away, Sirius thought he'd get his Godson back. But, holding the quidditch robes and the nonresponsive naked body in front of him snapped Sirius right back to reality.

Sirius knew he had to get Harry clothed for his funeral. Sirius then lifted Harry's arms and head as he slid the soft fabric of the quidditch tunic on. Harry's head lolled to the side and his arms dangled precariously. XxX

All the glass and dried blood had been cleaned away and Harry's body looked beautiful and pure. His skin untouched and clear, soft to the touch.

Sirius silently specified that he be the one to ready his godson for the inevitable funeral the next day.

Remus his best friend had just gone through the first night of full moon. Snape had agreed to brew a potion to pause the effects until after.

Sirius wanted to be the one to do this, but he hated feeling his Godson's cold to the touch skin. He cringed inwardly but caressed the boy's face.

Finally with the help from Kingsley Harry lay over the sheets in his prided Gryffindor team quidditch robes. He looked smashing as Mr Weasley would say.

A still breeze wafted through the open window and unhinged a lock of Harry's raven hair. It flitted in the breeze and made Harry's bright, innocent eyes look even more childish in context.

Sirius looked away strangely-he could not bear it.

-------------------------

_Sometimes you have to let things go, no matter how tightly you grip them. You may save them, but it just makes the pain more unbearable._

_Knowing that they had died, or they are dead._

We comforted Ron; he'd been sleeping in the hospital wing since he had gone with dad. We would have gone with them, but Dad had not told us by then.

I half understand why Ron wishes to stay here. One, because I bet the Gryffindor tower would easily remind him of Harry. Two, I bet for a childlike comfort he wished to stay because he knew that Harry lay in the next room adjacent to the hospital wing.

The cooled air seeped underneath the door, it comforted me too. Fred beside me looked relaxed; I know we both have identical saddened glints in our eyes.

I worried for Ron, I worried for my brothers, and I worried for my family. I couldn't stand the glassy eyed look that Ron gave off, the way he huddled into himself.

Hermione looked better, she sometimes smiled shakily. She spent squandering hours in the library. She was trying to read her grief off, but at least she had properly grieved. She was ready for the days yet to come.

Ron had also grieved but he was still nonetheless in a trance of memories. He would never forget Harry.

I watched protectively over my two brothers, one my twin and one who had just lost his best friend.

I know my breathing is uneven, it matches George's. Somehow we will get over this, we will pull through.

I still don't understand the bitter unfairness of it all. One last word and question lingers in my mind, everyone's. Why.

I do not need to ask, I just ponder. I close my eyes tightly and match my steadying breaths to George's.

Then I leaned in and pulled Ron and George with me, forehead against forehead we intimately held each other.

We held each other together.

-------------------------

The news hit me and I thought that I may have a heart attack. Two ministry officers just send me a letter along with Severus bursting into my office.

Voldemort was dead. Severus had been called to find his master dying slowly. Hell broke loose when his last rasping breath had stilled the air.

The auror's letter struck me and realization bloomed. Harry had not been killed by his Uncle; well his Uncle was not fully responsible.

Logic clicked and Albus Dumbledore shut his eyes tightly. _You died for us Harry, you were dying._

The reason Harry and his Uncle fought was because Harry had snuck out the night before.

He had snuck out to kill Voldemort, and he had. But escaped with internal bleeding that could not be fixed.

He would have died anyway and no would have known.

The bitterness of the realization scrambled the headmaster's thoughts and he openly sobbed with his forehead against the desk.

The aurors thought that they should be the ones to tell Albus Dumbledore that Harry had used underage magic only a day or more ago. A few hours before he had been murdered to be exact.

It didn't seem a trifle big, but now it fit perfectly into place.

Harry had fulfilled his destiny, and he had been dying doing it.

His uncle merely ended his suffering.

_My dear boy…_

-------------------------

Those damnable Weasley twins came bursting into MY office I nearly threw a fit. It's not everyday they venture down to my dungeons when they aren't planning on turning my hair red or something.

"What?" I hissed at them and stalked around them like a predator. They didn't flinch, but merely beamed their identical beams. They irritated me.

After cleaning up the mess I had made and taken many hours brewing the potion for Lupin, I really was not in the bloody mood.

"Well-"The one on the right started, a bit held back as if it were on the tip of his tongue,

"-We know you don't like pranks-"

"-And we know you didn't particularly like Harry-"

"-But we were wondering whether-"

"-You'd be willing to make a transfiguration potion for us-"

"-For a prank in honour of him-"

"So what do you say Professor?" They chorused together. Their ability to finish each other's sentences was driving me irate.

I narrowed his eyes, and then drew back. Then I realized what they were asking me and what for, suddenly the words tumbled out before I could stop them,

"Of course."

-------------------------

XxX Credit goes to Lee my beta for this part

Please take the time and review, no flames.

**Next Chapter:**

Six Reasons-Sirius's turn if you're looking forward to that.


	6. Six Reasons

**Title:** Seven Stages of Grieving

**Author: **So Yun

**Beta: Syracusethedog**

**Chapter: **6/7

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Languages, violence, adult themes, character death

**Summary: **Something tragic has befallen Harry, how do the seven people connected to him deal?

**Note1: **Change of style, some POV's and some narrated POV's

**Note2: **Don't be disappointed but this fic isn't a 'Harry comes back to life' I intend to stay original!

**Note3: **Horcruxes have nothing to do with this, this is completely AU.

**Note4: **Play "Look after you" By the Fray for this chapter.

Seven Stages of Grieving

Six Reasons

-------------------------

_Losing a child, even if it is not your own is nightmare within itself. You are the parent, in everything but blood._

A shallowed emptiness had settled in Sirius's stomach, it made him feel sick. Maybe it was because of the firewhisky or maybe it wasn't.

But soon he was dry heaving; he leaned over the bed's edge and coughed. Soon the dry heaving became dry, racked, choked sobs. He went like this for hours, and then the tears came.

The tears came in hot gushing torrents; no matter what Sirius did they did not stop. They warmed his cold cheeks with wetness and soon his hair became damp as he lay on his side against a pillow.

His breaths became gulping waves and he fought control himself. He kicked the blankets and sheets away enraged, howled at himself. He was literally in pain.

He fought himself, kicking and punching the bed, everything in vain to stop the tears. He hugged himself and everywhere he looked or when he closed his eyes, Harry would be meekly smiling, running his hands through his hair, smiling.

The feel of the coldness under his touch when he had prepared his godson's body gave him nightmares. He tossed and turned at night, some nights awakening with a gasp to see Harry standing right beside the bed, staring. Then Sirius would blink and he was gone.

-------------------------

Remus was sitting in the kitchen table, drumming his fingers. The wait for tomorrow seemed inevitable and long, he had nothing better to do. He paused his fingers when he heard noises of destruction coming from the upstairs bedroom; soon it was accompanied by loud sobs.

"Sirius." He uttered quietly and got up so quickly that his chair fell backwards. Not heeding to pick it up he rushed upstairs to aid his best friend.

"This was a long time coming my friend."

He hurried up the stairs, taking two at a time and opened the door to the room. The room was being prepared for Harry to live in; Sirius had cut out quidditch pictures and plastered the walls. He has gotten Minerva to transfigure the bedspread into one with a lion on it.

There was a cage perch ready for Hedwig and there was a stuffed toy black dog sitting on the dresser. Sirius was in the bed under the sheets, the bedspread lying on the floor crumpled.

His face was hidden, buried into the pillow. An empty bottle of firewhisky lay on its side beside the bed. Remus could hear Sirius racked sobs, he watched Sirius's body heave and gulp huge breaths.

Remus closed his eyes gently then walked over and sat on the bed, turning Sirius over like he was a child and holding him close.

Sirius tried to pull away for a second; fully believing that Remus was Harry, trying to embrace him. But then reality came smashing back and he fell limp and let his best friend hold him.

He sobbed into his best friends shoulder, he cried until every emotion had left his body. He was stuck in a void of numbness; he stared past Remus's shoulder to the wall. A blank, vague expression danced in his eyes, his vision was still blurry but soon his eyes were dry.

The two men stayed like this for the most part of an hour, unmoving, silent.

-------------------------

I cannot imagine why I agreed to this task so readily, but I do know with defiance I should even if it goes against my judgement. A prank in honour of Harry Potter pranks were the very bane of my existence when the marauders would use me as their coy.

Together the three of us hover over my giant copper cauldron making a large batch of transfiguration potion. However we are now quarrelling over something I wish we never would have had to.

"We want to go sir! We have every right to see him! We need a hair for the potion, it's for him!" The Weasley twin's wore identical angry looks, their blue eyes blazing.

I close my eyes gently and shake my head. I swallow my biting anger I cannot give my students that now, not while they are grieving.

"No." I say firmly. "I will be the one to receive the sample, I must ask his godfather first for permission-"

"But Sirius hates your guts!" The one on the right yelled, I closed my eyes again.

"I know." I pause, and then continue. "I know but I am willing to ask him for this cause Mr Weasley." I chastise then stride out with my robes billowing.

I beat them to it; they are too busy gaping at my proclamation.

-------------------------

"Six reasons." I croak at the mirror, my appearance is dishevelled I know, but quite frankly I don't give a flying fuck. Moony has long left me; I told him gently I would be alright. I lied.

I stare at my appearance then splash my face with cold water from the tap, I cannot feel it. The droplets of water stick to my eyelashes inflicting my vision, I daren't brush them away. The beauty of something so small keeps my sanity intact.

I continue to stare at my reflection, unblinking, still. Like Harry my damn godson is. I open my mouth and I watch detached as my lips move, "Six reasons."

"You made me smile."

"You saved me."

"You made life worth living."

"You made me see beauty."

"You made me care."

"I loved you."

The last words he uttered, his eyelids fluttering as the raw hole surfaced.

"I loved you." He repeated and closed his eyes gently, reaching out his fingers to touch the mirror. "I am reaching out to you Harry." He whispered his eyes still shut gently, he daren't open them.

He was both afraid and excited that he knew Harry would be staring back at him. When he did Harry stood there, his fingers outstretched in the mirror, almost touching Sirius's own.

He forfeitered blinking but could hold off no longer when the air made his eyes become dry and they watered. He blinked and Harry was no longer there.

He let out the breath he held, then drew back his fist and punched the mirror.

Tiny little pieces of glass shattered and tinkled when they hit the sink and floor. Soon a dancing mirror and ribbons of light flaunted the bathroom.

Sirius watched oddly as rivulets of crimson blood dripped off his fist, then cried as Harry stood there holding him together.

He knew not whether he was going insane or not.

"Come back." He whispered as he blinked. Harry was gone.

-------------------------

When I floo to Grimmauld Place and come face to face with Remus sitting by the table, I stumble.

He has a sad, forlorn look on his face which I cannot decipher. I know that Albus has not told anyone of Harry's heroic deed before he was killed, I know. He was dying.

Albus wished to announce what happened at the funeral, I think otherwise but I will keep my lips sealed.

"Where is Black?" I manage, Remus doesn't look up, and he just gestures towards the upstairs bedroom. I nod dryly then hasten up the stairs; I don't tempt to look back. Remus must know how Black is dealing.

Once I am on the second floor I hear glass shattering and heavy breathing coming from the bathroom. I walk slowly towards the closed the door and turn the doorknob. What I see inside is painstakingly a Black thing to do.

Light is dancing around the room from the shattered mirror fragments littering the tiles. Black stands in the middle of it all, looking at some invisible force in front of him, oblivious of his bleeding fist which he no doubt used to punch the mirror.

Snape stepped over the fragments carefully then let his hand gently fall on Sirius's shoulder. Sirius then swivelled around quickly, thinking it was Harry.

His shoulders fell and he snarled, "What the bloody fuck do you want Snivellus?"

Snape desisted from rolling his eyes and chose to grasp Sirius's firm arms tightly and dragged him over to the sink and ran the cuts under warm water.

"Let me the bloody fuck go!" Sirius screeched and attempted to pull away, but Snape proved far stronger and continued to clean away the cuts. Finally Snape let go and Sirius went flying into the far wall.

"You know-this doesn't make-"

"I know Black; it doesn't fix any animosity between us. Nothing will."

A large obstructed Sirius's swallowing and he dimly nodded, letting his head fall back against the wall. "So what did you want Snape?" He said in a more civilized tone and gestured to the man.

Snape folded his arms and nodded, "The Weasley twins were wondering if they could use a sample from Harry for a prank they plan to play in honour of him," He travelled gently and watched as Sirius's eyes surveyed the ceiling until his head tilted, nodding.

"Of course." There was silence again; the two men acknowledged each other then Snape left. He had a sample to get and he didn't realize how hard it would become to finish that task.

-------------------------

Snape checked on the twins once in the dungeon, the potion was simmering. Then he began his task. He strode up the corridors until he finally came to the hospital wing; he shivered a little as the chilled room's temperature went through his robes.

He ignored the looks the Weasley boy and Granger gave him and continued to the end of the wing. Finally he came to the door and he paused at the doorknob but turned it when he felt the scrutinizing stare of the two temperamental residents gave him.

Once inside he shut the door gently and walked purposefully towards the still form in the bed. Bloody Gryffindor quidditch robes of course, the boy obviously had to dress in pride, even in death.

It irked Severus Snape and he raised a brow at his musings. He leaned closer but stopped himself as he noticed his outstretched hand was shaking. He used his other hand to still it and he continued.

But then again his damn hand wouldn't stop shaking, he didn't know why. He became infuriated at himself and stepped back, it stopped. He gritted his teeth firmly and leaned in again, his hand shook but then stopped on its own accord.

He closed his eyes as he felt his fingers brush the boy's raven locks. He swore he heard childish laughter, his eyes snapped open. He was alone.

His hand was hovering, the lock of hair wavered on its own. Snape breathed deeply and rushed to pull out the scissors. He gently held a lock of the hair up and snipped it off. It of course didn't make a difference, it blended in with the bird's nest it already was. Even in death, he added.

He put it in the vial and put the cork on firmly, and then he gently brushed another stray lock from the boy's widened, open eyes and left the room. As soon as he was out, he pressed against the shut door, putting his whole body weight on it. Slowly he slid down, clutching the vial so tightly that it shattered in his hand.

He looked down and clutched the lock tightly, free uncaring and oblivious of the two pairs of eyes watching him. After a moment he composed himself and stood up, striding the room ignoring everything else. Anything that mattered.

-------------------------

The large lump was now residing permanently in Sirius's throat. His expression remained completely blank.

He was back to lying on Harry's bed, nearly buried under the covers. The moonlight shone on it, making the lion look like it rearing and growling. Sirius closed his eyes for moment and when he opened them Harry was lying facing him, his eyes wide and reproachful.

He had his hands tucked under his chin and his stray fringe obstructing his eyes a tiny bit. Sirius outstretched a hand and brushed it away, Harry stared back and Sirius did not blink.

Then Harry was gone, Sirius hadn't even blinked, not once during the whole encounter. Furiously he blinked and blinked, fully suspecting Harry to be lying there again. Sirius fell into a gentle sleep after that, and when he woke up Harry wasn't there.

He had left forever. He had said goodbye.

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Please take the time and review, no flames.

**Next Chapter:**

Seven Thousand Candles-The final chapter


	7. Seven Thousand Candles

**Title:** Seven Stages of Grieving

**Author: **So Yun

**Beta: Syracusethedog**

**Chapter: **7/7

**Rating: **M

**Warnings: **Languages, violence, adult themes, character death

**Summary: **Something tragic has befallen Harry, how do the seven people connected to him deal?

**Note1: **Change of style, some POV's and some narrated POV's

**Note2: **Don't be disappointed but this fic isn't a 'Harry comes back to life' I intend to stay original!

**Note3: **Horcruxes have nothing to do with this, this is completely AU.

**Note4: **Play "How to Save a life" and "Over my head" By the Fray for this chapter.

Seven Stages of Grieving

Seven Thousand Candles

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The hospital wing was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Hermione and Ron lay on the same bed, their faces only inches away from the other, their heads turned towards each other.

Their breaths mingled and ghosted each other faces, Hermione whispered, "We are never going to forget him Ron. I can't help but think he's lonely….I miss him so much-so much it hurts Ron!"

Ron's face sagged in grief and he leaned closer replying, "I know Hermione, I feel it too. But all we can do is be here for each other, Harry will be ok…he will, I promise you."

Hermione blinked in the morning sun and a lone tear felled from her eye. "I love you Harry but-

She moved closer, her lips only a space away from Ron's but she stared away at the ceiling, "-But we have to move on and I know you understand-"Her gaze lingered on Ron, "I love you Ron."

Together they both leaned in, their lips joining in a sweet kiss. It was tender and only lingered for a moment, but they held each other in their arms tightly.

"Goodbye Harry." They whispered together.

-------------------------

I have dropped the strand in; it took me almost an hour of contemplating the cauldron with the lock fisted in my hands.

The Weasley twins are on a break and the potion is simmering. I felt a feeling of anguish sweep me once the lock of hair had been swallowed whole by the bubbling mess.

The last of Harry Potter will be gone soon. The funeral dawns closer, at dusk today the procession will start. I don't know who will fall first, Black or me.

I feel an unebbing guilt that won't go away. I feel responsible for a most part. I made life hell for that boy and now I can't take it back.

His eyes have long stopped haunting me, I don't know whether it was a sign or forgiveness or not. Maybe he'll strike me down, or his father or Lily will.

But no one can ever understand what it feels like to be so horrible to one before they died. I feel it is my entire fault.

If he did not have that horrible guilt I placed on his shoulders with my scathing remarks, then maybe he wouldn't have felt so worthless. He wouldn't have ran away to kill the dark lord. He wouldn't-…..

Snape sat himself on a stool and stared intently at the cauldron holding the last essence of Harry. He couldn't drag his eyes away knowing that part of the boy was in there.

He nearly stood up and overturned it, but he kept himself composed. The potion finally settled and he knew it was finally finished.

-------------------------

Sirius was heartily crying into the arms of Kingsley and Remus who both held onto the very drunk man. They both looked quietly at each other over his back and shoulders, each shaking their head.

Ever since they had found him rambling in Harry's bedroom that Harry was gone they had gotten quite concerned. He was stubbornly drinking more firewhisky and kept murmuring things.

"He's gone, my Harry…..where'd he go? I saw him! Harry!?"

Remus rubbed his back while Kingsley went and fetched a soothing potion from Snape's lab in the basement. Remus hummed quietly to his best friend, fresh tears of grief for both Harry and Sirius falling.

Sirius was just giddily shaking against his friend's open arms. He was still murmuring, he couldn't believe anything at the moment. Nothing would numb the pain.

"Remy I saw him, I did……I held him Remy…I did-"

"Stop it Sirius-"Remus muttered angrily, but softly gently shaking Sirius hoping it would snap him back to reality.

"-He looked so beautifully at peace Remy, James and Lils they'd be so proud….I saw him with my own eyes…he-"

"Stop it Sirius! Stop it this instant! Harry's dead! Vernon Dursley threw him into a glass table! HE'S DEAD!" Remus roared, and pulled back shoving Sirius back gently.

Sirius staggered on the spot and precariously dropped the half empty bottle. It smashed on the tile floors of Grimmauld Place kitchen, it echoed.

Sirius steadied himself onto a nearby chair and muttered coherently, "He's gone…"

Remus's gaze softened and he embraced Sirius tightly and whispered back, "Yes Paddy, he is gone. He is gone forever"

Sirius nodded accepting before passing out backwards from the amount of alcohol. Remus gently lowered him to the ground just as Kingsley returned.

Remus smiled shakily, his last tears rolling slowly down his cheek, his eyes bright, "I think we're healing."

-------------------------

Dumbledore petted Fawkes gently as the bird crooned and smiled. He was looking out his office window, the sky was clear and blue, and there was a gentle breeze tilting.

It was a fine day and everyone knew it, it was only dampened by the funeral. But hopefully it would brighten again afterwards.

The Hogwarts express was doing multiple trips for the morning and after noon. Thousands of people throughout the wizarding world were coming for the funeral.

The students with their parents were solemn, the girls teary eyed and the boys silent. Each parent gave their condolences to the professors and the floo in the great hall was never silent.

Every second there was a whooshing of people arriving and the flames were continually green. Flocks of owls came in by hundreds and tables were covered in a blanket of letters.

But somehow the school was ever so silent. No matter how many people it contained it was completely silent, only whooshing of the floo and the rustling of letter of owls, pitter pats of feet softly walking could be heard.

It was as if the school itself was grieving for a loss of its student. No one knew that except Dumbledore, but still he smiled.

He knew that past few days had been hard, but he knew everyone connected was healing. No matter how hard death affected anything it touched, people would still triumph through it.

It was not in disrespect for Harry, he cared so little for himself and he knew he was dying. But he had saved the world and the world still mourned, most for the loss of a hero, but others for a loss of a student, son, friend and child.

Fawkes and Dumbledore watched in fascination and a silent awe at the many people streaming in across the grounds. If only Harry had taken time to see what was truly there.

To see that people truly cared about him; he had no idea how many did and probably never would.

-------------------------

Fred and I watched as Professor Snape carefully extracted the potion in a large vial, it shined with an emerald light. Fred and I smiled at each other gently; our identical smiled only just reaching our eyes.

Snape also bore a faint trace of a smile on his lips but we weren't quite sure... We followed him down to the kitchens keeping up with his wide paced strides.

Finally we tickled the pear in the fruit bowl and together the three of us entered the kitchens were the Funeral feast was being prepared.

Dobby and the rest of elves greeted us solemnly, each of their wide eyes saddened; marred with grief.

Dobby stepped forth and Snape bent down, handing him the large vial carefully.

"It shall be done Mr Weasleys and Mr Snapes." He said quietly and the entourage bowed before parting way for the single elf.

-------------------------

The school was still silent until the large clock in the bell tower chimed, the noise reverberating across the whole school. Everyone froze in their tracks and looked to the beautiful setting sun.

The grounds had a red light covering it; every person in the vicinity turned and made their way to the lake.

The lake was like a mirror, it reflected the sinking red sun on its surface and many were awed by its beauty.

Pattering of feet was heard and thousands upon thousands of people were walking solemnly towards the lake. Not one space between the castle and the lake was uncovered.

Once everyone was settled, the sun was just below the horizon but still reflected red light everywhere. The stars were starting to reveal themselves and a dark blanket covered the sky. Light from the luminescent moon reflected on everyone's pale skin.

The silence was foreboding until a small candle light shined its way across the grounds. Everyone turned and gasped at the sight before the oak doors of the castle.

There was a silhouette across the lawn, shadows unmoving cast across the grounds under the light of the silver moon. Everyone was staring intently, not taking their gazes away; the sight was scary and beautiful at the same time.

Six men in black dress robes but with an emerald band on their right upper arm held a silver coffin with the Gryffindor Lion flag draped across it. Sirius and Remus were at the front, Sirius not bothering to fight the angry tears dripping from his eyes because his arms were full and he cared not.

Remus stood on the other side of him, his expression stony. Behind them Ron and Kingsley bore each side of the coffin. Ron's ears were red and he closed his eyes every so often, holding his best mate's coffin so tightly his knuckles were white.

Kingsley had silver paths on his cheeks, silent tears still gently falling. Behind them each of twins bore a side of the end of the silver coffin.

Both had no tears and their eyes were not watery, they sparkled defiantly.

Then they started moving, each man stepping in time with each other. Slowly but surely they made their way down the gravel path and across the grounds. Finally they halted gently in front of the crowd.

The crowd stared before moving away silently, each staring at what each of the six men bore. Finally a path was made and the party continued to its destination.

A white stone pedestal bench stood under a silver leafed tree by the water's edge. Dumbledore, Hermione, Snape and the remaining Weasley family stood by it; Fawkes perched upon the headmaster's shoulder.

The procession made its way and when they paused by the stone bench, each man slowly lowered the coffin onto it. Some were hesitant to let it go, but finally it sat on the white stone under the starry night, the silence was inevitable.

The six men stood back, Sirius's angry tears still dripping. They stepped back together as a line and a lone house elf stepped forwards.

Every one of the thousands watched on, all mourning for a loss of a hero. There were hardly any dry eyes there. No one in the history of the wizarding world had had so many attend their funeral. Harry would be the first.

Dobby wore a beautiful velvet house elf robe, the Hogwarts insignia embellished upon the breast pocket. He stepped up on the white stone step below the bench then looked upon Dumbledore.

Dumbledore sighed and closed his eyes gently, and then he began.

"Harry Potter deserves so much more then this. Harry Potter did so much more then a fifteen year old boy should ever have to do. He bore the burden of our world upon his shoulders and he bore it well. He did not deserve to be murdered by one of his own kin; he did not deserve to leave this world so early. He deserved many more great things,"

Dumbledore paused as a lone tear dripped from his eyes and rolled down his wrinkled skin.

"Harry Potter was murdered by his Uncle-"He paused again, he knew at that moment he should have told Sirius this before. He did not know how much more Sirius would be able to take until he was broken.

"-But the night before he snuck out and-"He sucked in a breath and searched for Sirius in despair. Once he found the man more tears fell, almost never-ending.

The Sirius face he could not decipher, it was sort of fear and despair mingled. While he paused everyone remained silent and intently awaited for him to continue.

"-And he killed Lord Voldemort…" The silence was deafening, there were no outbursts or anything Dumbledore expected.

"-He escaped but not after he received numerous blows that resulted in internal bleeding. Harry was dying when he was killed, he died for our world."

There was silence again, but it was broken by Sirius's wailing. It echoed the grounds but no one moved. They were entirely shocked to say the least, they were mortified.

Sirius had fallen, creasing his beautiful black robes. He was on his knees, his mouth agape. He was wailing and wailing now accompanied with heavy gaping breaths.

Remus stood silent beside him, his own grief renewed. He didn't bother to comfort his friend. It was like when you got a giant gaping wound and somehow you managed to sew it up only to have it ripped open renewed.

Hermione shed no tears; she just leaned on Ron and whispered, "Oh Harry…"

Ron wrapped his arms protectively around her and sobbed quietly.

Snape looked away, he could not stand it. Were the dunderheads so stupid that they could not realize that the boy had a hero complex?

He had long before known and criticized it. He shook himself and breathed deeply, "You just had to do this to me didn't you Potter." He said to himself but without malice.

He thought that the crowd might have a giant outburst at the noise, but obviously they were shell shocked.

Everyone snapped back as Dumbledore trained his wand on the coffin, the incantation whispered on his lips as a lone tear fell, "_I Emanci E To Dorum._"

On the white stone bench where the silver coffin lay was now a transparent glass jar.

No one could take their eyes away; beautiful, glittering golden dust lay in the jar. They were now the millions of pieces of Harry, ready to be blown away into the wind.

Dumbledore solemnly stepped forwards the carefully held the jar, lifting away the glass lid. He then turned to Dobby and bowed, the house elf bowed back before stepping away.

The headmaster motioned and the seven, or eight in essence, people stepped forth. Each person held out a single upturned palm and he walked the line, pouring equal amounts of the dust onto their palms.

Sirius had composed himself and he stared at the last remnants of his godson. His well of tears had dried up and reality had just hit him, stinging him.

He should have known Harry would go out and do something like that. He should have protected him, but he didn't. Sirius felt guilt and it settled like a black plague in the bottom of his stomach. His heart felt tightened and stringed out, he felt helpless.

Together the each of them looked towards the grounds and lake, blowing out gentle breaths. The thousands of people watched in awe as the golden dust blew into the gentle breeze taking it everywhere. It sparkled and shimmered in the wind and within an instant it was gone.

Once it was gone again their was silence and everyone felt something foreign release inside them. Sirius and Snape felt their different guilt wash away and release.

Everyone smiled up at the sky; they all knew that their Harry was smiling back at them.

"The hardest thing and the right thing are the same" Hermione whispered into Ron's ear as they felt the gentle breeze. Ron nodded and gently kissed her on the lips, "I just want him to know we love him"

"He does Ron; he's always going to be looking down on us. He knows we love him and he did before he died,"

"He sacrificed himself and we owe him,"

"Life's going to be hard from now on Ron I know, but somehow everything is going to be alright."

"Your right Mione, you always are." Ron said before kissing her again tenderly. When they looked upon the lake again, it was a mass of light.

Seven thousand candles were floating alight on the water, making the lake shine up towards the dark starry sky. Shining up to Harry, each candle was shining for him.

The End

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A/N: The spell used to turn the deceased into Golden dust is not latin, it is made up language. I made it up from my own mind and I thought it fitted. It means, "_I release you to heaven_."

I would like to say a big thankyou to **Syracuse/aka/Lee**; he helped me greatly with this story. It is as much his as it is mine.

Thankyou to all who reviewed I greatly appreciate it. Please tell me what you think of the story, did it make you cry? Laugh? Smile? Hated it or loved it?

**Next chapter is an epilogue** of what happened afterwards; read it if you want to know what the twins and Snape were making.

Thankyou,

:D

Yun


	8. Epilogue

**Title:** Seven Stages of Grieving

**Author: **So Yun

**Beta: Syracusethedog**

Seven stages of Grieving

Epilogue

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Hermione and Ron looked fondly upon the framed picture. It had been taken on a sad day but it had been a joyous event afterwards.

In Hermione's arms she cradled newborn Baby Harry, his brown eyes and curly orange haired head snuggled in blankets.

Ron kissed the baby's forehead gently then kissed Hermione tenderly on the lips.

"That day changed everything, but it also made everything alright," He whispered leaning over he should to smile at the photo.

It had been taken five years before on the day of Harry's funeral. Whenever the duo looked at it they smiled, all their tears had been shed.

There was no more room for crying; only laughing and smiling.

It was a picture of the great hall at Hogwarts; there were black banners with emerald ribbons in the background. The hall was filled with the thousands of people who had attended Harry's funeral.

The quirky thing was that every single person who had drunk from the giant bowl of punch now had emerald eyes, messy raven hair and cellotaped circular glasses.

Taking the fact that nearly everyone drunk the punch, everyone looked like Harry; males and females alike.

Each one of them grinned, some of them pushing up their cellotaped glasses which were too big. The twins and Snape had asked Dobby to slip the transfiguration potion into the punch. It had been the prank in honour of Harry, the last one.

The funny thing is that no one had a lightening bolt scar. Even the twins and Snape assumed that everyone would get that when they drunk the punch.

But it truly proved that Harry's scar was not truly an essence of him. It proved that what was underneath truly outshined the outside.

But no one needed to be told that, they all knew Harry had shined in every aspect.

Hermione, Ron and baby Harry stared at the picture and smiled. Although they would never see their friend again in this life time or baby Harry would never meet his Godfather, they would never forget him.

They lived their lives the way Harry would have wanted them to. They took baby Harry to visit Great-Godfather on a weekly basis and Hermione scolded him on an hourly basis.

The first toy baby Harry ever received was a stuffed black toy dog; he immediately loved it and never let it out of his sight.

Although Sirius was getting old he still got caught attempting to teach baby Harry to fly, Remus usually aided him in that department.

Snape only glimpsed Harry Weasley once and instantly disliked the baby, even though it was only a year old.

Though the old potions professor promised he would never hate the boy or do anything in spite of him. He actually even smiled at the baby as Hermione walked past carrying him on her way to her Charms Office. The brown eyed baby smiled back and waved its hand.

Then Snape resumed his usual sneer and attempted to take points off her husband who trailed behind carrying a magical cot; besides the fact he had graduated five years before.

Dumbledore frowned at him as he walked past before smiling and winking.

"Damn you Albus, I refuse to teach that little snot rag when he comes to Hogwarts…."

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End file.
